


Childhoods Past

by TheStoryMaker



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Bonding, Bromance, Childhood, Gen, Male Friendship, Melancholy, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStoryMaker/pseuds/TheStoryMaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Around the campfire, the men talk about their childhoods.</p><p>Post S2 finale/Pre S3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childhoods Past

They had been easier days, taken up with nothing more trivial than the next adventure deep in the forest. Life was simpler, without the worries and stresses that the older generation dealt with. Where the next meal was coming from wasn't a thought in the mind, only the delight of seeing what culinary miracle a mother could provide from the meagre provisions in the larder.

These were at least vague memories of most of the group. Robin stayed quiet, half hidden in shadows as his men talked. The memories had been awakened through chance conversation around the evening fire as they made their way back to Nottingham on the long arduous journey from the Holy Land.

John was rather animated in the conversation. His eyes had brightened a little with memories.

“Stew, my mothers stew is what I remember best.” He said in his low gruff tone. He sat on a log, using his long staff to lean against, the light of the fire casting dancing shadows over his face shrouded in coarse beard. “All these years I still remember the taste. She was able to create a feast from the littlest of provisions.”

He fell silent, as was his way after revealing that little bit more information of himself. He was like a puzzle the group were slowly piecing together.

Much prodded the fire with a stick, dry leaves floating into the air as they were eaten up by the fire, casting sparks around the fireside.

“My mother was a terrible cook.” Allan interjected from opposite where he reclined on the ground, propped up by an elbow.

Much gave a tut and glared over at him. Allan grinned and rolled his eyes.

“What? You complain when I lie.” Allan replied. “It's the truth, all I remember of meals was the salt. Everything either salty or tasteless. Me and Thomas, we'd go off for days, live off the land in the surrounding forests. Or do some labor and earn an evening meal. Or-”

“Steal.” Much finished off for him.

Allan scowled and sat up.

“It's all right for you to talk, I suppose you had three meals a day working for a noble family. Would have suited your stomach fine. Some of us weren't so lucky. My parents worked the fields morning, noon and night with little reward to show for it. We aren't all as privileged as some around here.”

Pursing his lips Much uncharacteristically refused to be baited into an argument with Allan. He'd suffered bouts of hunger same as anyone and for a long time it was he who'd had to cook the evening meal after a hard days work, his mother too ill to shift from her bed. Instead of voicing these truths, he dropped the stick he'd been prodding into the fire atop of it and shifted his eyes so he didn't have to look at the man.

“Your parents were farmers?” John asked Allan, dispelling the awkward silence.

“Not exactly, they worked fields for a squire up north. We lived in a small hamlet nearby.” Allan replied. “Me and Thomas, we swore we'd find something better to do than that.”

“So you went into the con man business.” Robin had moved from the shadows and settled down by the fireside alongside Much.

“Not at first.” Allan replied. “We traveled around together for a while, at first we'd just take off for a few days at a time, help out here and there. Digging ditches, laboring, simple tasks we know folk would appreciate a hand in. Days would turn to weeks the farther afield we traveled. Then one day I decided I wasn't going back, never been back since.”

“How long?” Robin asked.

“Seven years, give or take a few months.” Allan replied after a pause. “Traveled about by myself for a few years and then I met you fellas. You know the deal since then.”

“What about you John? You haven't always lived in Nottingham. When were you last home?”

“Too many years to count.” John replied quietly. “I left when my mother died. Lay her in the ground beside my father, packed up my few belongings and left. Didn't look back until I got here.”

“How old were you?” Much asked him.

“Fourteen when I left. Met Alice a few years later, we traveled together, worked our way like Allan. But we liked it here, felt right to set up a home.”

“What about you? You always lived in Locksley, working for the family?” Allan piped up, speaking directly to Much.

“Yes and No.” Much replied. “My father worked the mill in Locksley. I didn't become a servant in the house until he died. I was ten.”

“What about your mother?” Allan pressed.

“Died when I was seven.”

“No siblings?”

“No.” Much shook his head and pursed his lips, unwilling to be pulled further into the conversation. He had happier memories to think about from his younger days, the days after the mill when he lived within the manor. His days there had seemed more assured, more stable. His future had suddenly become a road which stretched out before him, he knew the direction he would move in.

“Was it only you and Thomas growing up?” Robin asked Allan sensing Much preferred not to speak of his parents. On good days he could recall their faces and snatches of conversations, other days he had trouble remembering the simplest of details.

Allan looked into the flames as if recalling images of his past before looking up at them, peering over the fire. “I had a sister, younger than me. Younger than Thomas. Died before her time my mother used to say. No parent should have to bury their child.”

His voice dropped to a low whisper as he spoke before falling silent. Three pairs of eyes rested on him with slight unease as the others took in this small piece of information that he'd parted onto them. Each man became lost in thought, past memories come back to haunt them. Of parents and siblings long since bid farewell, lost in the echoes of childhoods past.

“What a group of morbid men we are.” Much said throwing a few more dried leaves onto the fire and watching them wisp into the air with violent spinning as they burned. “The past holds as many good memories as bad.”

“Like what?” Robin teased, knocking against him with his shoulder.

“Remember that time we'd been playing in the woods. We'd met Simon, the millers son on his way home from Nottingham market and had taken up a game of fighting outlaws and defending the village at all costs. We came flying out of the woods beyond Locksley yelling and shouting as if the entire King's guard were chasing us and scared Will half to death. He took one look at us, took to his heels and fled home. Didn't come out from the house for nigh on a week.”

“I remember being in serious trouble with my father because of it.” Robin retorted but with a small smile of rememberence all the same.

“The scolding was worth it for the memory of Will's face at the time.” Much replied with a grin.

“I remember getting a scolding off the squire once.” Allan said with a grin.

“Shirking your responsibilities?” Robin asked.

“Nah...caught me in the barn with his daughter.”

“No wonder you never returned.” John grinned over at him.

“Not after he caught me in the barn with his wife.” Allan grinned. It was the grin which had them all wondering whether he spoke the truth or not. It was alarming how well lies flowed from his tongue. Allan could always be relied upon to spin a yarn or two round the camp fire.

Robin gave a chuckle and shook his head, reclining back against a fallen tree trunk they were half using for cover against the autumn wind.

“What about you, no brothers or sisters?” Allan asked him.

Robin shook his head grimly. “My mother became very ill soon after my birth, it was advised she not have anymore children.”

“They must have been pleased you were a boy then. At least their legacy was intact.” Allan voiced his opinion with a slight condescending air.

“My Lady had a lot of love to spread around.” Much retorted, his loyalty to his Mistress had never wavered over the years. “People said she was the sort of woman who would have been suited to contending with many children. As it was she took great interest in the cares of the village. She was adored by the people.”

 

Robin was smiling lightly. He rarely allowed himself thoughts of his parents. His mother and father had died within months of each other and suddenly he'd been thrust into the seat of responsibility. From one day into another he'd been turned from a young adolescent man to Earl of Huntington and Lord of Locksley. And the call to war had come not long after that.

“My mother would have liked you Allan. She always liked the cheeky ones, said they had a spirit in them which kept them fighting no matter their circumstances. Although she'd have frowned at the thought of fraternizing with serving girls in the barn.”

“She certainly wasn't impressed when she found a certain son of hers fraternizing with a serving girl in the stables.” Much added with a glance to Robin.

“Oh she didn't.” Allan shook his head in mock horror.

John gave a grunt and chuckled at the thought.

Robin tutted and gave Much a dig with his elbow. “Well if someone had done his job correctly and kept a proper lookout I'd not have been caught.”

“What did she do?” Allan sat up and looked interested for details. “Tell your father?”

“I wish she had. Or scolded me, or given me a sound whipping.” Robin said meekly, the memory forefront in his mind. “My mother didn't work like that. No she just sat in her seat looked at me with a look of disapproval and told me she was very disappointed with me and my behavior.”

“That's it?” Allan looked a little disappointed himself. He'd been hoping for a little of an interesting outcome.

“Oh you didn't know Lady Anne.” Much added with a shake of his head. “Scoldings and whippings are much easier to bear than having someone like her disappointed in you. It was awful.”

“She also dismissed Laura which made me feel even more guilty. I later found out that Mother had had her relocated to Knighton Hall rather than have her lose her job and part of her familys income.”

“You know I may not be here if someone had merely looked at me disappointed after catching me in the barn with the serving wench.” Allan chuckled. “Instead I've had to relocate several times.”

“And still not learned your lesson.” John said with a yawn as he lay down his staff and shifted to lie on his side.

“I've learned plenty,” Allan said with quick wink before lying down properly with a yawn.

“Please keep those lessons to yourself.” Much piped up as he built the fire up a little more before shifting to lie down beside it.

“What about you John? Any happy memories of your childhood?” Robin asked over to him. “Aside from your mothers stew.”

John gave a small smile. “My father was a woodsman. He'd leave the house early morning and return late at night. Tall man, taller than me, a giant some used to say. When I was a boy I'd run to greet him as he returned home along with my brother and whoever reached him first he'd hoist up onto his shoulders. Felt like flying being carried aloft that high.”

“You have a brother?” Allan pressed him for more information.

“Aye, Stephen. He was older than me, left home a few years before myself with his wife. Last I heard he'd settled down in London. That's many years ago, we lost touch after a while.”

“Don't you wonder what happened him?” Much asked.

“Sometimes I do yes.” John sighed, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Sometimes I just like to remember how we were, two boys running to meet their father returning home from a days work.”

The night was settling in quickly around them and they were all tired from the day of walking they'd been through. They would reach Nottingham within the next day but for the evening at least, their minds were cast back to the past in more pleasant days without the heaviness of responsibility weighing on their shoulders. Silence settled about them as they became drowsy, waiting for sleep to come. They could dream of easier days, when adventuring in the forest was no more than a childish game and not one of survival. Where the shadows in the forest were the only things to fear and not the threat Sheriff guards. Tomorrow they would return to Nottingham and the hell it had become, but for the evening at least they could gain a reprieve in the echoes of childhoods past.


End file.
